


The Best Warmed Plans

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: Winter Writing/Drawing ChallengeDay 22 - Huddle for WarmthFor normal-isoverrated, who is having the opposite problem. I’m sorry about your power!Written 02/02/2013.





	The Best Warmed Plans

“Freak ice storm,” Mycroft says bitterly. “I should have known.”

John raises a brow. “Somehow, I don’t think even your mind can predict the weather, or the power going out, or…anything described as ‘freak’.”

Mycroft’s eyes narrow from his spot tucked into the armchair by the fire with a quilt wrapped around him and a mug of tea curled between his hands. “I’m. Cold,” he says.

John’s face softens. Mycroft does look fairly miserable. “I was the one who convinced you to take me on holiday,” he says a bit shyly. “You didn’t even want to come, did you? Come here.” He pats his lap. “Sit here.

"No, you come here,” Mycroft protests. “ _I’m_ by the fire.”

“See, now you’re making _me_ miserable,” John comments. “But, okay.” He sets his own mug down. He curls his coat around himself a little more as he comes forward toward Mycroft, taking the mug from his hands, setting it down on the ground.

“I knew this would happen,” Mycroft complains.

“We’ve been over this. You didn’t.” John seats himself sideways across Mycroft’s lap in the chair, leaning against him, drawing in a breath through his nose. He presses a kiss to a pink cheek. “The car will be here soon enough.”

“My holidays never go right,” Mycroft complains, wrapping his arms around John, pulling him close.

“Not what you imagined, huh?” John kisses his cheek again, then the other one. 

A slow smile creeps across Mycroft’s face. “Stop that,” he says.

“No. And you know why?” John gives him another. “Because you’re smiling. Hard to ignore, aren’t I? I’m very distracting.”

Mycroft pulls John’s face close with a gentle hand, turns it, kisses him softly on the lips. “This is the very worst holiday,” he says with a soft laugh. He nuzzles John’s cheek, the cool brush of his nose making John’s face twitch.

Surely Mycroft can’t mean that. “This is the worst? I thought you were once shipwrecked,” John points out.

“But at least I wasn’t cold,” Mycroft says with complete bitterness so pure John decides to try and kiss it away.


End file.
